


our lives can change with every breath we take

by esperanzameanshope



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1990s, F/M, Librarian!Sandor, Where the Heart Is - Billie Letts, Where the Heart Is - Fusion, mom!sansa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-19 01:56:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19347199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esperanzameanshope/pseuds/esperanzameanshope
Summary: Sansa Stark is on a road trip to California with her boyfriend when she is stranded at a Wal-Mart in the middle of Oklahoma.  At seventeen years old and seven months pregnant, she has only $7.77 to her name. The last thing she expects is to fall in love with the town and the people in it.------------------------------Inspired by the book "Where the Heart Is" by Billie Letts and the 2000 film starring Natalie Portman.  And by inspired, I mean completely ripped off.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> When I was like thirteen, I was obsessed with the movie and book "Where the Heart Is" because I'm an absolute sucker for sappy rom-coms. And I've been wanting to get back into writing and actually finish something, so I decided to start small. The idea stuck with me and I thought, fuck it, why not. 
> 
> Also, I originally was going to make Brienne the Sister Husband character, but I couldn't make that her fate because I love Brienne too damn much (if you've read the book or watched the movie, or can infer from this, you know what I'm talking about). Besides, Brienne is definitely the Mr. Sprock of their relationship, so....
> 
> Anyway, I've already roughly planned on what I'm doing, so this should be complete within the week (or next week).
> 
> And yeah, I feel like I need to disclaim that I combined aspects of both the book and the movie. And in some parts, I straight up took the dialogue from the film. But again, I'm slowly (very slowly) getting back into writing and it helped.
> 
> WARNING: I'm not going back and editing everything because this is more of an exercise than anything to get me slowly back into writing, so this won't be polished at all. I apologize, but I hope you still like it!

_Feel that? That little_ bomp, bomp, bomp _? That’s where the heart is._

*~*~*~*~*

 

Sansa looked out at the parking lot, her breath heavy and heart racing.  _Where’s the car, where’s the car, where’s the car_ , echoing in her head.  It was there, not five minutes ago, when she’d ran into the store.  The silence from the lack of the rattling engine was deafening, leaving her head clear enough to wonder how the hell she’d managed to get herself stranded in the middle of Oklahoma.

She turned her Polaroid camera around in her hands, the last picture she’d taken of Harry still sticking out of the front.  She pulled it out and looked at it.  There he was, in full developed glory.  She’d taken it as he’d turned into the parking lot.  He had been angry that she’d had to pee and angry that she was about to take his picture _again_ , and that much was evident in the photo.  His face, handsome and fair, was twisted into a grimace.  His mouth was open—no doubt telling her to get the camera out of his face—and showing his straight, white teeth.  As she looked at the photo, the baby inside her went wild, kicking fast enough to match the tempo of her heart.

 _My boyfriend, he just went to get some gas, he’ll be back._   The employee had just looked at her with a sad look in her eye and handed her the change she’d left behind in her rush to get out of the store.  Sansa looked at the $7.77 in her hand and winced.  _Fucking sevens._

When she was seven years old, her father had been put on death row.  When she was in the seventh grade, her mother and older brother were killed in a car accident.  Once, her little sister Arya cut her with a knife from her wrist to nearly her elbow and it took seventy-seven stitches to close her up.  Arya claimed it was an accident, but Sansa wasn’t so sure.  Suffice it to say, Sansa _hated_ the number seven.

And now here she was, seventeen years old and seven months pregnant, abandoned by her boyfriend in the parking lot of a Wal-Mart.  She had less than ten dollars to her name, a pair of flip-flops, a Polaroid camera, and the sundress on her back.

She sat on the wheel stop, right where Harry’s shitty car had been parked, for nearly an hour before the baby started kicking again, this time apparently targeting her spine. Sansa hobbled her way to a bench near the entrance.  It was hard and her rear-end complained, but she sighed in pleasure at the support it gave her to back.  She closed her eyes and leaned back.

The bright light from the summer sun beating down on her eyelids suddenly grew dim, and Sansa opened her eyes out of curiosity.  She found the sun blocked from her sight by the single handsomest man she’d ever seen.

“Alayne?” the man asked, his beautiful green eyes wide.

 _Gods, was this man beautiful._  He was tall and lean, with golden hair messily coifed to perfection.  His face was perfectly symmetrical, with high cheekbones and full lips.  He was beautiful in a classically handsome way, like a movie star.  He seemed to be carved out of marble, if the muscles under his thin t-shirt were anything to go by.

But then, she noticed it.  At the end of his right arm, there was simply nothing.  His right hand was gone. He seemed to notice that she noticed, and shifted his stance, but didn't seem uncomfortable.  Sansa blushed and cursed herself for staring.  Harry had always been so shallow, something Sansa had always hated, and here she was staring at this man.

Sansa snapped herself out of her thoughts and turned her attention back to the man, remembering that he’d said something before.

“Sorry, what?” Sansa asked.

“Alayne, it’s been so long,” the man said, a broad, toothy smile cracking across his face. Excitement and recognition were clear in his voice.

“I’m sorry, I’m not—”

“Do you remember me?” the man suddenly asked, concern in his voice.  “You might not, you were so young then.  I’m Jaime Lannister.  You used to call me ‘Jem’ because you couldn’t say ‘Jaime.’”

Sansa just looked at him blankly. _As pretty as he is, this man is crazy._

The man’s smile froze a little and a dark, confused look passed over his face.  “Can you say ‘Jaime’?”

Sansa narrowed her eyes.  “Jaime.”

“That’s good,” the man—Jaime—said, his smile returning to his face.  He glanced down at Sansa’s stomach and his eyes widened a little.  “You’re having a baby.”

Suddenly, Jaime snapped his head around towards a truck parked in front of the entrance to the garden section.  He made quick strides over to the bed of the truck and pulled out a basket.  He waved her over, and Sansa got up and waddled to stand beside the man. Standing up closer to him, she became even more flustered at his beauty. He smelled absolutely divine. Sansa was no short woman, but this man was tall, a good height for a man.  Sansa became frustrated, internally, at how perfect this man seemed to be.

“I run the town’s Welcome Wagon—don’t ask how I got suckered into that.  Here’s a basket for you and your baby, I give them out all the time.”  Jaime’s voice was soft.  “It’s got everything, you know, coupons, matches, a couple of emery boards…  Oh, and this.”  Jaime reached back into the bed of his truck and pulled out a large plant.

“What is that?” Sansa asked, eying the plant like it was an alien.

“This is a buckeye tree,” Jaime said proudly.  “It’s supposed to bring you good luck.  Maybe you need it.”

Sansa took the tree, and, inexplicably, a feeling of comfort washed over her.  She looked back up at Jaime.  The man gazed at her with a knowing glint in his bright eyes.

“Welcome home.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Three weeks later, Sansa found herself in a regular routine.  Every morning, she would wake up at 5am, and get ready for the day. First, she would replace the sleeping bag she used and return the alarm clock to the shelf.  Then she’d wash herself in the sink.  It was hard work, but she found that baby wipes helped.  By the time she’d finished, it would be 5:45, and it would be time for her to hide in the utility closet, as the employees began to arrive. 

She hadn’t intended to stay in the Wal-Mart.  The first time had been an accident.  Right before the store closed that first night, she’d gotten sick and went to the bathroom.  By the time she got out, the store was dark and the doors were locked.  At first, she’d panicked when she’d tried the door handles and they wouldn’t budge. But then a sense of relief washed over her.  No, she couldn’t get out, but no one could get in, either.  She felt truly safe for the first time in a long time.

Sansa leaned back on the park bench and let the sun warm the skin of her face.  She hadn’t ventured that far from the store before, but found herself being glad that she had.  It was a beautiful day and, sore feet be damned, she wanted to walk around and see the town.

Across the street, she noticed a building.  It claimed to be a library, but looked almost as though it was a house at one point.  In any case, the library was small.  Though Sansa couldn’t claim to be an expert on libraries.  Perhaps libraries being run out of former houses was a common thing amongst small towns in Oklahoma.

Sansa looked to her buckeye tree sitting next to her on the bench.  The past few days, it had begun to look sad.  There were brown spots on the leaves, and it looked pale.  Almost tired.  It looked how Sansa seemed to feel.

Looking hesitatingly at the library across the street, Sansa weighed her options. She’d never been a huge fan of libraries.  In her defense, she’d only been inside one once, but she’d hated how she’d felt whilst inside. 

Sansa was never what anyone would call smart. And she had never felt like she needed to be.  Her mother always told her she was beautiful and that that was enough.  Unlike her sister, who was hungry for learning, Sansa was impatient and simply gave up looking.  Every lesson she’d learned in her life, she learned by making mistakes first.  Which, frankly, was why she was in this situation now.

But she looked at the sad little buckeye tree—she thought of Jaime and his stupidly perfect face and his smile being the only smile she saw that day—and decided she could _not_ let this tree die.  Besides, if the tree was supposed to be good luck, she didn't want to think of what it would mean if she let it die.  She didn't know if she could quite afford it.

When she walked inside the building, she noticed the eerie silence of it.  She knew that libraries were supposed to be quiet, one of the reasons she felt uneasy within them, but an almost stillness pervaded the building.  She felt the quiet in her bones, and it made her heart beat feel loud in her ears.  Sansa placed a hand on her stomach, half trying to calm the baby that kicked inside her and half trying to comfort herself, and continued.

As she entered the foyer, her eyes were drawn to the chandelier above her head.  It was small as chandeliers go, but to Sansa, it was huge. The winding staircase in front of her was also a sight to behold. She’d never seen such flagrant displays of wealth before. And when she turned to what used to be the sitting room or parlor, Sansa was greeted with an even more beautiful sight.

Books were everywhere. From top to bottom, every shelf was packed full.  The room that housed the books was the size of Sansa’s old home alone, but that wasn’t saying much.  Sansa’s old home was _very_ small.  Despite the sheer number, the books were very meticulously organized.  Her heartbeat picked up a little at the sight.

“Hello?” Sansa called out weakly.

For a long moment, there was nothing.  Just the rush of her heart in her ears and the stillness of the building.

“What do you want?”

A second hello died on her lips at the sound of the gruff voice.  Whoever it belonged to, it sounded like they swallowed nails.  The question came from a distance it seemed, so Sansa took that as an invitation to come further in.  She slowly inched her way closer to the source of the voice, looking amongst the stacks of books.

“I’m looking for a book,” she said.

“What _kind_ of book?” the voice asked.

“About trees?” Sansa said, hesitatingly.

As she moved further in the room, she saw a mass moving in-between the bookshelves. The man the voice belonged to looked to be large and quick, his long legs carrying his broad frame from shelf to shelf, as though desperately trying to find something.  Or desperately trying to get away from something. Whatever he was doing, he was making it hard to keep with him.

“Forestry, environment, agriculture, botany… what do you want to know about trees?” The deep voice sounded exasperated and Sansa couldn’t help but blush with embarrassment.

“I don’t—Well, um, a few weeks ago, somebody gave me a buckeye tree.”

“A buckeye?” There was surprise in the voice, but also a bit of humor.  Sansa’s face grew hot at the thought that this man—this stranger—was laughing at her.

“I-I think it’s dying,” Sansa said.  She knew her face had to be as red as her hair.  There was something about this man—that she had yet to see—that was making her all flustered, and she didn’t like it.  She moved to sit down at a nearby table. “I would show it to the people who gave it to me, but I’m a bit embarrassed, I—”

Her entire train of thought stopped as she looked up and finally saw him, in full, for the first time.  Sansa’s thoughts flitted back to her first encounter with Jaime, how she thought he was tall and a good height for a man.  When she’d thought that, she didn’t think a man could be too tall.  She had been wrong.

The man in front of her seemed to match perfectly with the grating voice.  He had at least a foot on her.  His chest was broad and, Sansa noted with another blush, chiseled. Everything about him looked powerful and muscular.  Sansa gulped, thinking how she’d thought Jaime was toned, his muscles had been obvious underneath his shirt. Jaime was a stick compared to the towering, brooding muscle of this man.  Heat rose in her belly at the sight of his body.

And then there was the matter of his face.  She could tell he had been handsome.  The thick, intense shape of his brow.  The aquiline nose and high cheekbones. A strong jaw (she noticed it was clenched as he watched her take him in). One half of his face suggested a rough, masculine beauty.  The other half, however, indicated tragedy.

His long dark hair was combed towards the ruined side of his face, an attempt to hide it.  The skin was shiny and mottled, the wounds healed but no less grotesque.  _He was burned_ , Sansa realized with a jolt. However, despite the scarring, underneath the skin, the structure of his face was still there.  He was handsome, in a way Sansa had never seen before.

For a moment, he looked as though he might tell her off.  She supposed that would be a reaction she couldn’t blame him for; she _had_ stared.  But when she looked into his eyes—a steel grey that reminded her of the knights her mother used to tell her about in stories—she saw the anger start to leave him, and a different emotion she couldn’t quite place take over.

He threw a large book down in front of her.  Sansa had honestly never seen a book so big in her life.  She wondered for a second if everything in this town was larger than life.

“Look up ‘buckeye’ in the index,” were the last words he spoke to her that day.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Later the same day she’d met the librarian, a man she learned was called _Sandor_ , she visited Jaime. He’d introduced Sansa to “his wench.”  Brienne had rolled her eyes at his name for her, but Sansa could tell it didn’t bother her. Brienne was tall, taller than Jaime, and almost as tall as the scary librarian.  She could not be described as beautiful, but there was something charming in her lopsided smile and sparkling blue eyes.  No one would ever suspect that the beautiful Jaime Lannister would be keeping a woman like Brienne Tarth, a woman who appeared to be even stronger and tougher than him, in his bed.  But that’s exactly where she could be found, and Jaime couldn’t be happier about it.

When Jaime answered the door to her, he didn’t look very surprised.  And when Sansa explained that she was not, in fact, this _Alayne_ girl, he looked even less surprised.  He had simply nodded, that same glint in his eye, and said, “Of course.”

They prayed to the old gods before they sat down for a meal, something that Sansa hadn’t done since her mother and brother’s funeral.  She’d been living off of candy bars and cereal and whatever else she could find ready-to-eat at the Wal-Mart.  Sansa had a little notebook that she used to keep track of what she’d used so she could eventually pay for it all.  But a proper hot meal was something she hadn’t had in almost a month.

Sansa asked the couple if she could plant her tree in their yard, and they both seemed happy when she asked.  When Sansa said she’d be by every day to take care of it, Brienne had simply smiled and said, “That’s good.” Jaime smiled at Brienne and then looked over to Sansa and nodded his agreement.  Sansa knew it wasn’t the prospect of not having to take care of the tree that made them happy.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

She couldn’t remember everything.  She could remember the pain that had woken her up, a shooting, sharp pain that she’d never felt before and instantly knew she never wanted to experience again.

When her water broke, she'd skated on paper towels to clean it up.

She remembered stumbling in the direction of the entrance, and maybe she’d banged on the glass.  She couldn’t remember if she had been trying to break the glass, but either way, her fists were weak.  When she’d felt the liquid rush down her legs, she knew her worst fears were confirmed.

When she’d laid down, ready to push, she caught a glimpse overhead and noticed she was in aisle number 7.  It had taken the rest of her energy to drag herself into the next aisle.

The only other thing she could remember was the sound of glass shattering before the pain consumed her.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

She woke up, slowly, the next morning in a brightly lit room.  It was the first time in a long time that the sun was high in the sky when she was first beginning to open her eyes and it caused her to jerk awake. _Had the employees seen her?  Would she be banned from the Wal-Mart?  Would she have to sleep on park benches, just her and her baby?_

The thought of her baby caused her to jolt up from the bed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there,” someone said next to her.

She looked over to find a beautiful woman, a little older than her, smiling at her and picking at a slice of bread.

Sansa looked around the room and realized that she wasn’t in the Wal-Mart, but in a hospital room.  The woman next her, dressed in scrubs, appeared to be a nurse.  _A nurse eating her bread, apparently_.

“Good morning,” the woman said.  Sansa got a good look at her.  She had long, curling brown hair and large doe eyes.  The crooked smile on her face was charming, but made her look mischievous.

“Morning,” Sansa drawled, her voice thick with sleep. _The best sleep she’d had in a while_.

“I’m Margaery. Margaery Tyrell.”

Sansa smiled back at the woman shyly. “Sansa Stark.”

“Oh, I know,” Margaery said, her huge eyes thin and cat-like as she smirked. “Everyone knows the mother of the Wal-Mart baby.”

“What?” Sansa asked, panicked. “Oh, gods, is the hospital going to keep my baby?”

Margaery frowned and sat on the bed, placing her hand on Sansa’s knee.  “Now why would they do that?”

Tears welled in Sansa’s eyes.  “I can’t pay, I have nothing.  It’s like at a restaurant.  If you can’t pay, they make you wash dishes.”

Margaery laughed, and just like every other part of her, it was beautiful.  “They’re not going to keep your baby.”

“Are the people from Wal-Mart mad?” Sansa asked, hesitantly.

“No, they’re not mad at all,” Margaery said with that crooked smirk.  “It’s great publicity, apparently.  Makes them look all family friendly.  They even said on the news you could have a job at any Wal-Mart in the country.”

That threw Sansa for a loop. _Anywhere in the country._   She thought immediately of Harry, how they’d been on their way to California.  Harry said he was going to be a big star, and he was going to take her and the baby with him.  Well, that hadn’t worked out too well for her.  But maybe it had been a mistake?  Should she go find him, now that she had the baby?

She had always wanted so badly to get out of that trailer park in Tennessee.  When she had, it had been invigorating.  She had been so done with small towns, she was ready for the fast life of the big city.  But now, here she was in a dinky little place in Oklahoma, and she suddenly didn’t really feel like going anywhere else for a while.

“Now,” Margaery said suddenly, breaking Sansa’s train of thought, “what are you going to name this little cutie?”

Sansa looked over and saw Margaery standing there, holding a tiny little bundle swaddled in a pastel pink blanket.  Margaery handed the bundle to Sansa and suddenly she was staring into the eyes of her daughter for the first time.

She smiled and everything seemed to fall into place.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“Americus?” Jaime said, bewildered. “How the hell d’you come up with that?”

Sansa thought back to the man she’d met in the Wal-Mart, that very first day.  He’d been working in the photo section, taking pictures.  He’d stopped her and asked her if she’d wanted a picture of her baby, when she was born.  Sansa had been distracted by his camera, a fancy kind she’d never seen before, but he’d thought she was staring at him because of his height.

“I’m not going to spring up to full height in front of you.  I save that for when no one’s looking.”  Despite the sarcasm, his voice was calm and he hadn’t sounded too angry, just tired.  Sansa supposed he got shit for his height all the time.

“No, sorry,” Sansa had said, quickly trying to save herself.  “I was looking at your camera.  I’ve never seen one like that before.”

Something had changed in his mismatched eyes, and he looked at her with a soft kindness. He’d asked her what she was going to name her baby.  When she told him she was thinking about naming her baby “Jeyne,” he gave her a look so sharp it was almost scary.

“Don’t you dare,” he said.  In that moment, she felt so childish.  “You give that baby a name that means something.”  But then he smiled at her, just a small one, and Sansa realized what he was doing for her.

She had nodded and simply said, “I will, I promise.”

The man’s name had been Tyrion and she learned at one of her visits to Jaime and Brienne’s home, under the guise of caring for the tree, that he was Jaime’s younger brother. In the hospital, when Margaery asked her what she was going to name her daughter, the words he’d said to her had stuck.  _I want to give my baby a name that means something._ So she’d named her daughter Americus.

Sansa explained as much to Brienne, and she simply smiled and said, “I think Americus is a beautiful name.”

As Sansa watched Brienne and Jaime coo over her daughter, her chest tightened.  These two people had just offered her and her daughter a place to live because they didn’t have anywhere else to go.  She watched the scene in front of her and tried to stomp out the feeling that she’d finally found a home.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

She returned to the library a week after getting out of the hospital, Americus in her arms.  She knocked lightly on the door, and a voice—that deep, gruff voice—growled that they were closed.  But Sansa knocked again.

His face appeared in the window in front of her, suddenly.  His grey eyes grew wide as he saw it was her and hesitated for only a moment before swinging open the door.  He said nothing, but motioned for her to come in.

When Margaery had told her that Sandor had broken through one of the plate-glass windows of the store to help deliver her baby, after hearing her screams from outside as he was passing by, Sansa had been astonished.  She was so sure that the gruff librarian hated her guts.  But the shock in his eyes now at her presence in his library told her otherwise.

For a few moments, they didn’t say anything and Sansa was surprised at how much she enjoyed the comfortable silence between them.  Eventually, though, she broke it.

“We just wanted to come by and say thank you,” she said softly, looking up at him, not shying away from the scars on his face.  “You saved both of our lives.”

“Bullshit,” he said suddenly.  He seemed surprised that the words had come out.  “I just mean… it was nothing.”

Sansa shook her head, smiling.  “No, it was everything.  Seriously, thank you.”

Sandor cleared his throat and looked everywhere but at her, clearly uncomfortable that she was thanking him.  “You’re, uh, you’re welcome.”

“Would you like to hold her?”

Sandor’s eyes snapped to her, the fear in them obvious.  “No, no, I could hurt her, I’m not—”

“Go on,” Sansa said, practically shoving her baby into the large man’s arms.  He held onto the tiny Americus so carefully and nervously she almost laughed.  “She likes you.”

Sansa was telling the truth.  She saw her daughter’s tiny little face relax instantly when placed in Sandor’s large, warm arms.  For a split second, Sansa wondered how that would feel.  She shook her head, banishing those thoughts from her head, and took out her new camera.  Tyrion had given it to her as a baby gift.

“Say cheese,” she said brightly and snapped the photo.

Later, when she developed it, she couldn’t quite place why it was her favorite.


	2. Part Two

“I think I’m pregnant,” Sansa announced suddenly.

“What?” Margaery shrieked.  A woman further down the aisle glanced at them, annoyed, and walked away. “Are you serious?”

Sansa shushed Margaery and glanced furtively around the store, hoping her manager wouldn’t pop up somewhere and yell at her for talking about personal matters while on the floor.  After she determined it was safe, she turned back to Margaery.  “You know that guy I told you about?”

Margaery’s big eyes bugged out of her head in shock. “Petyr? That creepy shop owner?”

“He wasn’t creepy!” Sansa cried, dejectedly fixing a disorganized shelf.

“He was a little creepy,” her friend mumbled, messing up the items on the shelf Sansa had just fixed.

Sansa groaned but couldn’t help agreeing with Margaery a little.  He was sweet on her, and seemed to worship the ground she walked on—which Margaery said was a red flag.  But Sansa had been drunk on the idea of someone appreciating her.  When they’d had sex, however, he’d called out another woman’s name at climax.  Whatever semblance of a relationship they’d had was immediately ended by Sansa.

And now here she was, a month later, with a late period.  She sighed.  She’d just gotten down to her old size.

Margaery just shook her head.  “This is why I never date men who are a.) old enough to be my father—”

“He wasn’t!”

“And b.) obsessed with me,” Margaery sniffed, not allowing Sansa to argue with her.  “Which is why the guy I’m seeing now is pretty perfect.”

“And why is that?” Sansa asked.

“He gives off this vibe of being very disinterested, but I think he’s just trying to seem mysterious.” Margaery had a bright smile and seemed to be looking up into the clouds.

Sansa rolled her eyes and shoved her friend with her shoulder.  “He sounds like a jerk, Marg.  Not mysterious.”

“He’s not, though,” Margaery said, grasping Sansa’s arms.  “He’s sweet and so kind.  He’s just… aloof.”

Sansa wanted to be happy for her friend.  She knew Margaery had a long list of failed relationships under her belt, and was desperately looking someone to share her life with (although she would never admit it).

Much like Jaime and Brienne, Margaery had taken Sansa under her wing. She showed her how the town worked and kept her company.  And of course she adored Americus… but then again, everyone did. Margaery had no children of her own, which was just fine by her.  She claimed she wanted to “live her best life in peace.”  Sansa knew deep down Margaery wanted to have a nice, big family someday, but she needed to find the right man first.  And that was proving to be the most difficult part.

“Alright,” Sansa conceded.  She’d allow Margaery this dream of hers just this once, but she’d be ready with a shoulder to cry on and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s when the time came.

Just then, Sansa’s boss rounded the corner and the two girls sprang apart.  Sansa pretended to look busy organizing and pricing a shelf and Margaery pretended to be shopping.  Her boss watched her for a moment before turning and continuing through the store.  Margaery floated behind her and whispered, “I don’t think you’re pregnant, but you’ll have to wait and see.”  And then she was squeezed her arm and walked away.  At the end of the aisle, she paused, turned to look at Sansa and winked, before continuing on.

As Sansa watched her friend go, her words echoed in her head. _I don’t think you’re pregnant_. Sansa let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and just thought, _Dear gods I hope so._

*~*~*~*~*

 

The first time he showed up, Sansa didn’t know what to make of it.

She’d heard Jaime answer the door and had instantly recognized the teasing in his voice.  And then she’d heard the grating tones and instantly knew who was there.  He sounded particularly gruff, which only seemed to spur Jaime on all the more.  By the time Sansa made it to the front door with Americus in her arms, Sandor looked ready to deck Jaime in the face. And by the smug look in his eyes, Jaime seemed more than happy to egg him on.  Brienne just sat at the kitchen table, less than impressed with the overt displays of masculinity.

“Sandor,” Sansa breathed.  “What are you doing here?”

“Brought something for the kid.  Thought she might like it.”  He held out the book to her, a large book that appeared to be about the fall of Imperial Russia.

Sansa took it and smiled. “She’s three months old, I’m not sure she’s going to have much of an opinion on it.”

“Well, maybe someone could read it to her,” he said, obviously uncomfortable that Jaime and Brienne were watching.  He avoided her gaze, and simply observed the baby in her arms.

“You?” Sansa asked.

“What?”  An anxious edge was in his voice.

“Maybe you could read to her?”

There was a long bout of silence between them.  Jaime feigned disinterest and walked to the kitchen, and Brienne followed close behind.  Americus seemed to look between them, her unfocused eyes flitting to Sandor for a moment, and then up to Sansa.

Then, finally, “Alright.”

Sansa smiled, and that’s how it all began.

At least once a week—though it was more like every night—Sandor would come after closing the library with two books, one for him and Americus, and one for Sansa.  They would sit for a while, and Sansa would read her book in silence while Sandor read out loud to Americus.  When Sandor read to her, Americus would sit at attention and listen closely to his voice, almost like she understood what he was saying.

Once, when Sansa was intently reading a book about photography, she noticed she didn’t hear the sound of his rough voice in the background.  When she looked up, she noticed him watching her.  He immediately looked away and cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable that she’d caught him staring.  But as she turned back to her own book, she felt a small grin forming on her lips.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Sandor grumbled the whole way to the old flea market, but nevertheless followed closely behind as Sansa weaved from vendor to vendor.

For a while, they walked in silence.  It was comfortable between them, as though they’d known each other for a long time, and not like the two friends they were becoming.  But something Jaime told her about him one day floated around in her mind.

“Jaime told me you’re not originally from around here,” she said, trying to be as casual as possible.

Sandor eyed her out of the corner of his eye, a soft frown touching his lips.  “Jaime tell you a lot about me?”

“No!” she said, too quickly.  Sansa blushed, but tried to hide it.  “He just said you came here almost randomly.  I was curious why.”

Something in Sandor’s face darkened and he turned away from her for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Sansa began, “you don’t have to tell me if—”

“It’s fine,” Sandor said, his voice a little rougher than usual.  “I can tell you.”  He cleared his throat before continuing.  “I grew up in the North, in a decent place.  My dad always wanted us to look like the perfect family.” Sandor laughed at this.  “My older brother, Gregor, was a sick son of a bitch, that much was clear, but my mother could control him for the most part.  When she died, he did this.” Sandor gestured roughly to the side of his face.

“Your _brother_ did that?” Sansa gasped.

Sandor nodded.  “Held my head in the fireplace for playing with one of his toys. He was in and out of institutions and prison from that day on.”

Sansa grasped his arm, but said nothing.  Her throat felt thick, so she nodded at him, encouraging him to continue.

“I had a little sister.  She was sweet.  Her dream, she told me, was to be a librarian in a small little town, so she could read all the books she wanted and no one would bother her.  She got leukemia and died when she was twelve.  After that, my father began to drink himself to death.  He eventually did when I was twenty.  I couldn’t afford to stay in college, so I dropped out and moved as far away as possible.  Ran out of money when I got here, though, so I stayed.  Been here ever since.”

Sansa gazed at the man in front of her and took in everything he had just told her.  In a way, she felt a bit of comradery with him, knowing that his past was just as tragic, if not more so, than hers.  She felt her heart go out for him, but also understood that was probably the last thing he wanted, so she stamped it out and instead smiled at him.  “You’re living her dream.”

Sandor turned to her and mirrored her smile, the first genuine smile she’d ever seen from him. “Yeah,” he said.  “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Their conversation after that turned lighter, and onto the topic of Americus, as they were wont to do.  As Sandor talked about her, Sansa watched him.  She noticed the way his eyes seemed to lighten and his body relaxed.  He used excited, wide gestures and his usually coarse way of speaking seemed to soften.

She’d heard whispers surrounding Sandor, how off-putting and scary he seemed to others.  Sansa thought they had to be wrong.  The man who broke through glass to save her and her baby could not be the evil monster people claimed he was, and here, she knew, was the proof.

When Sansa turned her head, casually looking around the market as Sandor continued talking about his latest story time adventure with her daughter, that was when she saw it, sitting dusty and disused on a little table.  She almost didn’t notice it, didn’t quite recognize what it was, it was that filthy.  Then she’d recognized the twin lenses, one stacked on top of the other, and realized what she was looking at.

She’d had every intention of haggling the price, something Brienne had been trying to teach her to do when they all visited the flea market every weekend.  But Sansa barely heard what the vendor said and simply accepted the first price he suggested, too excited with her find to care too much.

When she took the camera to Tyrion, he grinned at her and called her a copycat.  He agreed to help her clean it up and fix anything that needed to be repaired.  A week later, Tyrion returned the Rollei to her, looking in even better condition than his.

The first picture she took was of Sandor while he read to Americus.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Christmas came suddenly, without much warning.  Sansa was just enjoying her time with her daughter.  It snuck up on her, the idea that it would be Americus’ first Christmas.  And suddenly, she wanted everything for her daughter that she’d been missing the past several Christmases.

After her mother and brother’s accident, Sansa was split from her younger siblings and sent from foster home to foster home, never staying for longer than a month.  She missed the Christmas mornings with her family and how warm she always felt on those cold winter days.

The first thing she had to do was find the perfect tree.  She’d originally enlisted Jaime and Brienne’s help, they were both strong and, if Sansa was holding Americus, they would have to do all the heavy lifting.  But Jaime claimed an exemption due to his hand, though Sansa knew this was just an excuse.  She’d seen him do similarly laborious tasks around the house with no complaint.  Brienne simply refused to go out when the temperature was below 40 degrees.

Eventually, Sansa decided to bother Sandor, who said he was only agreeing because he needed to find his own for the library.  However, as they hunted for the perfect tree, Sandor poked around at the trees, and Sansa knew he was enjoying it just as much as her.

Sandor found his relatively quickly, picking the first tree that looked full of pine needles and would take up the least amount of space in the bed of his truck.  But Sansa needed to find the perfect one.  Every tree was either too short or too skinny.  She honestly didn’t even know quite what she was looking for, but convinced herself that when she saw what she was looking for, she would know.

They had been searching for hours and were just about to call it quits for the day when Sansa spotted it.  The perfect tree.  By the time they—Sandor—cut it down and they—Sandor—loaded it into the bed of the truck, it was well past dark.

Conversation was scarce in the car for much of the ride back, out of sheer exhaustion.  But then Sandor huffed to himself, drawing Sansa’s interest.

“What?” she asked, smiling in curiosity.

“Today’s the 14th, right?” Sandor asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s just, wow, Americus is exactly seven months old today.”

Sansa barely remembered the rest of ride except for the occasional shout from Sandor urging her to slow down.  But Sansa kept her foot slammed on the gas pedal the entire ride, as Sandor begged her to explain what was going on.  When he saw the blue and red flashing lights in front of Jaime and Brienne’s home, though, he understood.

She didn’t even bother cutting the engine before she was clambering out of the car and up the steps.  Jaime was rushing to her, his green eyes liquid.  Brienne stood just inside the screen door, her face red and blotchy from crying.

“Sansa, my love, I don’t know how—”

“Jaime, what’s—”

“No more than turned around—”

“But how could—”

“Gone, Sansa.”

“Oh, God—”

“Gone.”

“No!”

“Americus is gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And cliffhanger!! This chapter took a little longer to write than I'd intended, and it's much shorter than the previous chapter, but I think the next part will make up for it? Hopefully. 
> 
> Also, I hope you don't mind that I made Margaery childless! I know that's a huge part of Lexie's character, and eventually what happens, but I didn't think it fit with Margaery. Besides, I didn't want to make the story exactly like the book/movie, as a way to not only keep my interest writing it, but also for the people who have read the book/watched the movie before.
> 
> By the way, you may have noticed, I added another part. I had thought it would split up better this way, and when I went back and reread the book today to refresh my memory, I didn't realize that the book was split up into four parts! We love coincidences! lol
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it! Thanks to everyone who left comments/feedback on the last chapter! I seriously appreciate all the support. It's making the writing so much more fun knowing that there are people just as passionate about this little project as I am!


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